Generation of Hospitalization
by ClassicLassitudeCacoethes
Summary: The Generation of Miracles miraculously suffer injuries and end up in the same hospital ward. Five basketball prodigies with strikingly different personalities in the same ward ...Things just keep getting better. CRACKFIC
1. Prologue

**_A/N: Lassitude here! Been a while since we posted something, so we proudly present our latest __masterpiece __humble piece of work, a KnB collab crackfic by Classic and me!  
(This prologue was jointly written with our other friend as well, who goes by Chameleon, and she will serve as our unofficial beta-the-first/possible collaborator for future chapters.)  
We hope you look forward to the fic :)_**

Review! Follow! Favorite! (All three! :D)  
ENJOY~

Disclaimer: We do not own Kuroko no Basuke nor its characters. 

* * *

_Once upon a time, there lived a unicorn. The unicorn's name was Akashi.  
__The next day, the unicorn died. uhoh._

**^ The above is a key example of how crack-ily the story is written, taken out of context. I do believe, however, that you will find the story much more entertaining than that, for various reasons. **

The Generation of Miracles- Akashi, Midorima, Kuroko, Aomine, Kise and Murasakibara. Each possessing incredible talent and prowess in basketball.

Akashi, the captain.  
Midorima, the shooter.  
Kuroko, the Phantom sixth.  
Aomine, the ace.  
Kise, the copycat.  
And Murasakibara, the giant.

But secretly… they were all a bit retarded on the inside. (Yes, even the straight-As Akashi) Their brains were kind of like basketballs with no air. _Deflated_, one could say.

At the _crack_ of dawn of this fateful day, the Five were mucking about as usual...retreated within their own little cocoons of life.

But unbeknownst to them - Be it you call it fate, destiny, or simply pure misfortune of their poor souls; Disaster and calamity will strike and befall.  
**At 8.12am. _Sharp._**

_Vivant et stultitiam._


	2. Chapter 1: Akashi

**A/N: This chapter was originally extremely nonsensical as it was written by Lassitude, as you can tell from all the ridiculous bits. Therefore, many thanks go to Classic for legitifying it to the best of her ability. We sincerely hope this does not put off readers :(  
**_Warning OOC Akashi (but for a reason in the context of the plot)_

**Fave|Follow|Review ENJOY~**

**Disclaimer: We do not own Kuroko no Basuke nor its characters.**

* * *

It was morning.

Akashi got up exactly 3.456789s before his alarm clock rang. And when said alarm clock rang, he shut it up with one decisive press of the button. He ran his fingers through his impeccably neat hair, and discovered that one single section of his hair stayed combed back.

_What the hell?_

Akashi paused. His hair was not perfect. This called for an emergency.

He retrieved his hand from his hair, only to discover that his index finger was covered in a waxy, sticky substance. He stared at the alarm clock button, covered in the same substance. He frowned. His eye twitched.

Some idiot was trying to mess with him early in the morning.

This morning had gotten off to a bad start.

In order to appease his anger, he decided to go ride his horse for the day.

Pinkie Pie neighed happily upon seeing its master. (If you're wondering why his horse was named Pinkie Pie, it's because he decided to dye Yukimaru pink and rename it in the spur of the moment.)

Akashi got on his horse.

"いけ！！" He commanded. No one knew for sure, but it was theorised that many individuals within a 20m radius at the time experienced a spontaneous heart attack. Luckily, there were no casualties.

As it was, Pinkie Pie sprinted off, galloping at what he thought could be equivalent to wind speeds of 350km/h and above, faster than a Category 5 hurricane. Akashi sat straight, upright, his back exactly 90 degrees to Pinkie Pie's back, feeling the wind whip all around him (like whoah) with much satisfaction. Riding did always help to clear his mind. Additionally, he was actually glad that he had gel in his hair now. Imagine getting off his horse with his hair all tousled and unsightly. He'd sooner commit seppuku than allow that (or any form of defeat) to happen. (Akashi happened to be in his mansion compound at that time so he was more or less 80% surrounded by walls and hardly anybody could actually see him even if he were to be in that state but obviously he was not in the right state of mind/simply wasn't giving a crap.)

Then Akashi blinked.

Kuroko Tetsuya walked past.

_Suddenly, it felt like time had slowed down._

The winds around Akashi died down as a brilliant ray of light cast its glow upon said blue-haired boy.

Kuroko turned his head in Akashi's direction. In that instant, flowers started flying all around him. A sweet smile graced his features as he laughed softly.

Then Kuroko somehow skipped through the wall that separated Akashi's mansion from the mainstream streets and extended one fine, muscular arm towards Akashi. He closed his eyes and leaned forward, towards Akashi, his thin, soft lips puckering ever so subtly.

"T-tetsuya!" Akashi gasped, eyes glittering.

Those. Luscious. Lips!

Akashi closed his eyes and leaned towards Kuroko as well, his heart soaring. Finally, he could share a deep, passionate kiss with Tetsuya!  
_  
AKASHI SEIJUUROU_

The words that come to mind upon hearing his name are always the same.

Charismatic.

Absolute.

Perfect.

The key to his charisma and absolutism was of course, his perfection.

And with his perfection, he couldn't be considered human. Not 100% human, anyway. He was a work of art, sculpted with perfection and hard work, down to the last detail- be it the cold, hard, expression etched onto his stiff face, or the way his cunning, scheming eyes were carved right up to the tips of his corneas. The result was a perfect person- not a perfect human- to the point where his only human parts were the living, beating organs inside the vessel known only as Akashi Seijuurou the Absolute.

These organs were imperfect of course, seeing as to how they were actually alive, and therefore inferior compared to Akashi. Year after year Akashi had believed that he was indeed a perfect being, right up to the point when a mild-mannered boy by the name of Kuroko Tetsuya waltzed into his life.

From that very second onwards, Akashi's imperfect human heart cracked and the imperfections surfaced within, the fault lines growing with every passing year.

One day, these cracks would appear on the surface, and break his imperfect perfection.

Today was that day.

Because right now all he wanted to do was run off into a delusional sunset with Kuroko.

.

.

.

Then Akashi was hit by a bout of dizziness and fell off his horse.  
Pinkie Pie buckled wildly and kicked Akashi in the leg.

Kuroko walked on sipping on his vanilla milkshake, not even giving Akashi a glance.

Akashi felt his _kokoro _shatter. And also his shin.

"#$*" Akashi swore uncharacteristically though with a straight face as he processed what had or had _not_ just occurred.

Two hours later Akashi was lying on an immaculate white bed in a room labelled "Ward 1-A".

Evidently, he had suffered the consequences of being hit by a case of allergies. He would never near seaweed again. It was clear that it tarnished his perfection, no matter how temporarily.

And he had to do something about Kuroko and those milkshakes.


	3. Chapter 2: Midorima

**A/N: Well, Classic here! I have certainly never written anything like this before, so I hope that this is to your liking. Many thanks go to Lassitude, the crack artist, for her crackifying, and to "Chameleon" for providing some interesting inspiration. We hope you enjoy reading this!**

_Warning: Midorima + Crack. _

******Disclaimer: We do not own Kuroko no Basuke nor its characters**

* * *

"...Cancer will have the worst luck today. Woe to the Libra that crosses your path, but beware any run-ins with Scorpios. Counter your bad luck with your lucky item of the day: an IV drip!" The perky sound of the Oha-Asa rang out from his phone.

Midorima paled considerably as he heard the foreboding statement. He nearly dropped the phone he held in his hand - except, that would bring even worse luck to him if he did that and managed to shatter the screen - so he grabbed it tightly, as if it was a lucky item in itself.

Thinking quickly, Midorima flipped the phone that he had snapped shut back open and dialled a number.

"Takao," He said the moment his call was picked up. "Do not come within a 500m radius of me today."

Without waiting for any sort of acknowledgement, he slammed his phone back shut. Now he was to get to his routine. Everything had to be exact and precise today to prevent the Gods of Misfortune from raining sh*t down on his smooth Gatsby-fied hair.

He mentally went through the steps in his head, although it really was second nature to him by now.

1. He had to comb his hair with 50 strokes of his cyan comb - because deep red was Scorpio's colour and cyan was its complementary colour.  
2. He had to...  
3. He had to...  
4. He had to...  
5. He had to file his nails and re-bandage his fingers as he did every day - because... well... this was not to be questioned.  
6. He had to _get his lucky item before the clock struck 8.12am - because his life today depended on it._

Failure to accomplish such critical a task would certainly result in disastrous consequences.

(Such as…for a very brief moment, an image flashed before his mind. He would be wearing a full black tux, a single red rose tucked away in his breast pocket, hair looking glamorous thanks to Gatsby, as he stood before his audience. And then everything would be spoilt when Takao, clad in a pure white gown, strutted down the aisle, grinning like the idiot he thought itself made Midorima's brain – and stomach – launch into spasms. He almost jumped into a hypothetical bush, but even that would be too embarrassing.)

But that was beside the point. Right now, all he needed to do was acquire his lucky item.

Except… should he order an IV-drip from the Oha-Asa? He had not broken his tradition of ordering his items from them since the start of the first lunar month of the year. Yet, would it be more beneficial for him to instead use an IV-drip from his father's hospital? Blood relations usually proved fortuitous, and having grown up as a doctor's son, he was all too acquainted with the importance of cleanliness. The risk of infection - which could affect his hand - was far too high.

He imagined his slender fingers swelling up with the 5 cardinal signs of inflammation (_Tumor - _swelling, _Calor - _heat, _Rubor - _redness, _Dolor - _pain, and... _the most dreaded: Functio laesa - loss of function_) and nearly fainted at the thought.

That simply would not do.

He looked at his watch (that was on the un-bandaged hand, of course). He had precisely 46 minutes to get to the hospital and find himself his lucky item. So, he did what any sensible person with a one-track mind would do. He ran. Not before putting on one of his shades with a smirk (_swag_). No one would_ ever_ recognise him.

Except, he was. He did not understand how.

"_No."_

As his father laid down his final verdict, Midorima felt the world beginning to spin around him. He blinked multiple times, fighting to keep himself steady and not crash to the ground.

_MIDORIMA SHINTAROU_

If asked to describe him, the words that would invariably be said would include:

(Tsundere)

Focused.

Confident.

...Eccentric.

The secret behind his confidence, focus and any other tendency was none other than his eccentricity.

It was because of his _strange_ outlook on life that he could not be considered normal. His belief in destiny, horoscope, luck and many of what others considered _occult _mobilised him and gave him strength. It was all organised in his mind - a mysterious labyrinth of carefully ordered routines and well-defined patterns. He would retrace the same steps every day, lucky item in hand. It was integral to him. A guide lamp that was ever-changing, yet in essence, always the same - at least, _in his mind_.

It was all in the mind.

All one needed to do was deny him that light, and he would be lost and left stumbling around in the dark.

So, he made sure it never happened.

Until it did.

.

.

.

It was 8.11.

_He had failed. _

Being distraught, mildly hysterical and simply because he was reeling in the wake of the peril he found himself in, he answered the call - without looking at the identity of the caller.

"_Shin-chan!"_

3.456789s later, a nurse pushing an IV drip and a trolley full of medical probes and equipment crashed into him.

A first aid box hit his head.

He hit the floor (the floor hit him?).

He heard a shrill scream.

And then the darkness came.

When he awoke 2 hours later, he was lying in a bed in hospital ward 1-A. He must have been hallucinating, for he thought he saw a pair of heterochromatic eyes observing him coolly from the bed next to his. _That particular set of red and yellow eyes. _

...At least he had his IV drip next to him.

_May lady luck grace him. _


End file.
